Closer
by LoserKid05
Summary: Inspired by Summers' journal from the BBC Website. Alex gets paid another visit in the night, but this time finds out who it is. And it's not some one she particulary wants to see... Alex/Summers? Oneshot.


"_I have watched her sleep._

I have stood and watched.

_I can do this without her. Operation Rose will reach its conclusion. Will find its raison d'etre if you pardon my ruddy French. But how much easier things would be with Alex Drake by my side._

_Yes, I have fantasies. I'm still a man."_

Alexandra Drake sleepily stumbled into her flat, lazily shrugging her leather jacket from her shoulders as she quietly shut the door behind her. Throwing her keys onto the glass coffee table, she turned and heavily leant against the wall for a moment to steady herself. Another day keeping scum off the streets; another evening spent downstairs, slowly drinking herself to an early grave with Gene and the rest of the team. She didn't think herself much of a drinker, the odd glass of wine back home...

Ah, home. Sighing, she shook her head and felt her eyes glaze over. She really did make a pathetic drunk, but who could blame her? If only they really knew. If only she could say something. But no... They would never believe her. Gene already thought of her as a bit 'mentally unstable' or in his delicately chosen words 'Mrs Fruitcake' – blurting out the truth would give her a one-way ticket to an asylum and she'd never get back to 2008 and Molly.

Tossing her jacket onto the sofa, she swallowed hard. Molly. A tear escaped from her glossy eyes and she hastily wiped it away. '_I have to be strong. I need to be strong to get back to her' _she sniffed in self-pity. She could never tell them the real reason why she was separated from her daughter. A stretch of twenty six years between them, a length of infinity. It broke her heart every time when she remembered how far away her Molls was... nothing had hurt her so much.

And they would never know her hurt. None of them.

She paused and closed her eyes.

No... one did.

Only one.

She inhaled deeply as his name sounded in her head: _Martin Summers._

Alex had never felt so torn; she wanted to get back home so badly. There was something about him, a sinister intimidation that mixed with a feeling of hope. She had to analyse, create profiles and solve things. But Summers seemed lost on her. He was trickier to work out. And what he wanted her to do... what he'd asked of her... she couldn't possibly do it. It meant going against everything. _Against Gene._ She just couldn't, her loyalty lay with Gene. End of. He was the only one she could trust... or was he? She shook her head; she didn't know who to trust anymore.

She didn't want to think about it.

Lips pursed for a moment, she finally relieved the wall from her weight before slowly making her way across the room towards her now very welcoming bed.

She kicked off her boots, it took a few times for her to do it and she was starting to get impatient – before fumbling around in the dark, her hands outstretched and reaching for her mattress.

"Oh, where are you... you... stupid thing," she muttered groggily to the darkness.

When she finally found it, she clumsily fell on top of it with a soft groan, her head reeling. She turned onto her back and sighed with a content tone, blinking up into the endless darkness. Uttering another groan, she put her hand to her forehead and winced – her temple throbbed with a dull ache. Closing her eyes, she listened to the empty flat around her, the sounds of the night outside and was soon soothed.

She listened to the distant roar of cars, the sirens from the darkness calling out to her and fell to an uneasy slumber.

Hours passed, and the dead of night soon fell over London. He found it so easy to get in these days; she still had never suspected a thing. If only she knew. He wondered what she'd think of that, visitors in the night. He watched her in the dim, listening to the sound of her soft and shallow breaths, the slow rise and fall of her chest. He'd been here a good twenty minutes already, but he wasn't in any rush. He liked watching her sleep, sometimes he'd leave her another rose – picturing her face when she'd wake up and discover it.

Summers smirked at the thought and watched as she murmured something in her sleep and turned slightly. '_Oh, Alex... if only you knew.'_

He slowly walked over to her sleeping form, the light from the living room that fell through the open door casted a tall shadow across the floor. He stopped and sat down on the bed next to her and leant over, reaching forward and putting a gentle hand to the side of her face – she was so _beautiful._ He softly caressed her cheek; she sighed dreamily in her light slumber and made a low hum in the back of her throat, nuzzling the hand. A smile flickered at his lips.

Alex stirred; she could feel the warmth of a hand against her face – the feeling pleasant and fuzzy. She smiled softly as she opened her eyes but inhaled sharply, her face fell as she saw Summers gazing longingly back at her.

"Hello, Alex..." he said in a thick yet soft voice, Irish undertones shining through.

She didn't move, she didn't want to _breathe_. There was a look of horror on her face as he brushed his thumb across the side of her jaw, the colour drained from her face. She shivered at his touch, her blood ran cold. Trying to find her voice, she licked at her lips and swallowed hard.

"What do you want from me?" said in a terrified whisper. "Why are you here?"

"Many things, Alex..." he said in a low, but amused tone. "But some of those are just personal hopes and dreams..."

He let a chuckle leave his lips as he moved his hand to caress her hair, brushing a few strands of her fringe from her eyes. "I was simply checking in on how you were..."

Alex's eyes grew wide and she bolted upright. Backing off the bed, she pressed herself flat up against the wall – eyes staring at him. Summers still looked amused, a dark glint in his eyes.

"Get out..." she said in a whisper before her voice grew louder. "Get out, now!"

He slowly got up, still in no hurry to leave. Every prolonged second made Alex more nervous and edgy, her eyes never left him. She thought he was going to walk right past her when he stopped suddenly and stepped in front her. He towered over, Alex felt so small and weak compared to him.

He was so close, she could see how the light was cast against his features – she took in every detail of his face. The cold, grey-blue eyes that bore in hers; the frown lines across his forehead and the soft thin lines of his lips. She dared herself to blink. Her reached up with one hand and gently ran it down the side of her face and onto her neck, his fingertips ghosting over her skin.

He smiled and leant in, murmuring in her ear. "It was lovely to see you Alex, I hope to see you again sometime..."

Alex shivered; his breath hot against her neck. She closed her eyes tight and held her breath as he stepped away from her and left. She heard the door open and close, leaving her in an empty silence once more. She finally exhaled again, letting out a choked sob. Sliding down the wall, she felt a hot stream of tears fall from her eyes.

"Oh, God..." she uttered, still terrified as she put a hand to her mouth.

On the other side of the door, Summers listened to the muffled sound of sobs. _'Oh, don't cry Alex.'_

Soon everything was going to fine. Just fine.

_Operation Rose was so close now._


End file.
